


Out of Time, into His Arms

by Tezzieh



Category: The Tudors (TV)
Genre: A good old reader changes some canon fic, F/M, I got this as a tunglr request and ran tf away with it, Making Charles wait for it, Nyarlathotep - Freeform, dubious magic, guest starring Will Tudor as Nyarlathotep, time traveling reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:00:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22535878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tezzieh/pseuds/Tezzieh
Summary: An idea got via a request on tumblr.You get punted into the 16th century by an Elder God, because he fancies screwing with the English Monarchy. You land smack dab at Henry VIII’s court and of course you sink in too deep.A Charles Brandon x Reader fic. Canon divergent, of course.
Relationships: Charles Brandon/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	1. The Alchemist … and his daughter, of course

“I have need of you.” Whispers in the dark, which wake you up, fan like hot breath over the shell of your ear. You open your eyes, finding your bedside lamp switched on. You turn your head and find there is someone beside your bed. Tall, slender and pale, the man is. You recognise his glassy, empty eyes. His name, of course, is Nyarlathotep.   
You groan and sit up. “What do you want of me, Master?” You ask. It is not the first time The Crawling Chaos throws you into an entirely different life, just to entertain himself. “The English Court.” The Elder God replies. “Now?” You ask. “Yes, now.” Nyarlathotep affirms. You huff and lay back down.

The Elder God’s fingers are cold on your forehead. You feel like you are sinking, ever so slowly, in warm, hot goop. It is sticky and clings to your skin. You go under, it pours into your nose and you feel like you can’t breathe.

With a start and a gasp you wake up. 

You open your eyes. You find sunlight peeking through heavy cloth curtains. You groan and sit upright. Your eyes wander to the side of your bed. The Crawling Chaos is still there, at your bedside. Everything else is different. The sheets, your bed, the chair he sits in.   
“How did you sleep, daughter dear?” He purrs. “Like I was smashed by a freight train.” Your groan. “Tut tut, make that a carriage. Horse drawn of course.” Nyarlathotep chuckles. “Ugh, just let me get dressed, seeing how a shower is out of the question.” You push the heavy blankets off and slip out of bed. “You will need to hide those pj’s.” Nyarlathotep says.   
You heave a sigh and strip out of your pj’s and panties. “I don’t need them anymore.” You say. The Elder God chuckles and throws a spark at the thin cotton. It catches fire and soon there is nothing but ash at your feet. 

“Now for a dress.” Nyarlathotep purrs. 

He gestures to the dress hanging from the desk chair. It is a gentle shade of green, with a slightly embroidery pattern to it. It is not a dress for a noble woman, but not a very cheap looking piece either. “And of course your underwear.” The Elder God hands you small clothes and an underdress. “Very well.” You roll your eyes. 

You dress yourself. 

You head downstairs and find Nyarlathotep in what looks like a laboratory. “By the gods.” You mumble. “What, I do have to keep up appearances. I am an alchemist.” The Crawling Chaos turns to you, showing you his wicked smile. It does not reach his glassy, empty eyes. “What must I do now? What do women in the middle ages do?” You ask. “You are going to go to the market, buy me some obscure things from the apothecary, that will raise alarms.” Nyarlathotep winks.   
You are handed a pair of shoes and a basket. “I can’t buy shit without money.” You say, putting your shoes on. To your relief they don’t have heels. The Elder God hands you a small purse, probably filled with coins. 

The market is very crowded and very vast. You can easily get lost in it. Or worse, socially exhausted. 

It takes you a good while to find the apothecary. On your way there, you buy a small loaf of bread, which you eat while you walk.   
In the purse The Elder God gave to you, you find a list of what you have to ask of the apothecary clerk. At the bottom of the list, you also find a request for three bars of iron, from the black smith. Oh yes, you are sure to attract attention now!   
You enter the apothecary shop. A bell rings overhead. A clark scurries into the shop. “Good morning, ma’am.” He says. “Good morning.” You reply, feigning shyness. It is better to act shy than to act … out of time, so to say. You need a while longer to observe how women of this era behave.   
“I have a list.” You tell the clerk. “Of course, give it here.” His voice is rather curt. You produce the list from the purse and hand it to him. “That is quite the list ma’am.” The clerk says. “I am aware. It is for my father.” You reply. “It is going to take me a while.” The clerk begins to gather what you need, right away. “That is fine, Father is not in a hurry.” You say gently. You stan by the window and peer out at the market.

You eye meets a group of three men. Men in the very prime of their lives. You don’t give them mid 20’s. One of them seems to look right at you. He is the most strapping of the three men, broad in the shoulders and wide in the chest. His hair is shorn very short and his jaw is stubbly. He sends you a slight smirk. You smile back, but then turn away. You are not sure if you are here for flirting. 

“This should be everything, ma’am.” Says the clerk, after what you think is at least fifteen minutes. You think him and pay. The clerk loads everything in your basket and you exit the shop. Your purse is considerably lighter, but you are sure you can still pay the blacksmith.  
On your way to the smithy, you see the three men again. The other two are both slender and a bit taller than the man who had smiled at you. His eyes find you again. He smiles warmly, his eyes roving over your form. Swiftly you enter the smithy.

The smith is all too happy to provide what you require, as long as you pay him. You give him all the coin that is still in your purse, which more than suffices. “Tell me this, though, miss, what do you plan on doing with all this metal?” The smith asks. “They are for my father, he is an Alchemist.” You purr. You plant a seed, like The Elder God wants to. 

The seeds are swift to take root and grow. 

Nyarlathotep is summoned to court after two days. Naturally you stay back, with your books and needlework. 

The King personally receives the Elder God. Nyarlathotep demonstrates turning iron into gold. The King commissions him to make him 25 kilos of gold coins. He talks to the Elder God half the night. You eat dinner alone and go to bed before Nyarlathotep returns home.   
But of course, The King asks The Crawling Chaos if he has a daughter. “Yes, your majesty, she is 19 and comely as can be.” Nyarlathotep replies. This is all going precisely the way he likes. The sooner he can bring you to court, the better of course. “Bring her to court, tomorrow, there will be a feast.” The King says.

“Today is your day, my child.” Nyarlathotep says, as he wakes you up. “What are we going to do today, more nothing?” You ask. “Not at all, we are going to nest ourselves at court.” The Crawling Chaos laughs. “I have a new dress for you.” He gestures to your desk. The dress is a tender shade of blue, with golden scroll work. “You will shine like all the ladies at court.” He smirks.   
You slip out of bed. “What do you want me to do tonight?” You ask. You understand very well that The Elder God has ulterior motives with every step he takes and every word he speaks. “Just enjoy yourself. But don’t answer to any advances.” Nyarlathotep warns. “Not even from the King?” You ask, understanding well that your Master wants influence. But The Crawling Chaos shakes his head. “No, not this time.” He replies. “Very well.” You answer.

You slip into your old dress and go to the market to buy perfume and fragrant soap. You help the Elder God draw water for your bath. It takes a long time to heat the water. It is past lunch time when you finally get to bathe.  
You wash yourself, carefully soaping your hair and rinsing it out. Once you are cleaned, you dry off. The Crawling Chaos dabs perfume on your throat, wrists, nipples and your core. “Now dress, I’ll get the water out.” He says.   
You dress, for as far as you manage. Nyarlathotep has to help you lacing up your bodice. Your breasts are propped up and your waist made as narrow as can. “Gods, I liked the first dress much better.” You groan. “Now now, no whining child, you look immaculate.” The Elder God chuckles.

A carriage brings you to the Castle. 

A runner announces your arrival. “Master Nicholas Storm and his daughter, Y/N!” He yells. The King, at the center of the high table, rises from his seat. “Alchemist, welcome.” He cries out.   
Henry the Eighth is a handsome man. He is garbed in shades of gold and beige and his hair is short cropped and soft looking. His lips are lush and plump.   
Nyarlathotep leads you to the head table. “Your majesty.” He bows. You courtesy. “Your majesty.” You cooe coyly. The King looks at you. His eyes are like chips of frozen stone. Eyes he roves over you.   
“Please, Alchemist, sit by my side.” He gestures to two open seats on his left. “Thank you, your majesty.” The Crawling Chaos bows again. He leads you to the empty chairs. He takes the seat directly by the king and you sit down beside the Elder God. 

“You have a pretty daughter, Alchemist.” The King says pleasantly. “Thank you, your majesty, she is the apple of my eye.” Nyarlathotep strokes your cheek. “She is very clever and well read, your majesty. You would do well beware.” He winks at The King. Henry chuckles. “Does she dance?” He asks.   
You give the Crawling Chaos a look. You can’t dance for shit. “Yes she does.” Nyarlathotep replies. He grasps you by the upper arm, firmly. You understand that you will have to fake it until you make it. 

Henry rises from his seat. He comes over to you, holding out his hand. “Allow me this dance.” He purrs. You stand and put your hand in The King’s. He leads you to the floor. You steel yourself and get ready to step on a few toes.  
But once the music sets in and Henry leads you into a dance you of course don’t know, you find that your feet seem to move on their own accord. You send The Elder God a look and return you get a knowing smirk. Of course this is his doing.  
As you dance, you spot a set of familiar eyes. Big baby blue’s that rake over your body. And a grin that turn you feet to jelly. You try not to let this man distract you from the King. Henry surely won’t like that. 

After some ten minutes of dancing, Henry returns you to your seat. You courtesy to him and sit down beside The Crawling Chaos again. The King looks at you, his grey-blue eyes are filled with greed.

The man who has been making eyes at you, approaches the head table. “Your majesty.” he bows for the King. “Charles, my friend. Have you yet met the Alchemist?” Henry asks. “No, your majesty, I have not.” The man replies. “Alchemist, this is my vastest friend, Charles Brandon. Charles, this is Nicholas Storm, he will help me with some financial issues.” The King speaks jovially.   
“And the girl?” Mister Brandon’s eyes venture to you. It is like he is trying to set you on fire with a look. You do your best not to fluster. Your eyes flick to the King. Something around Henry’s mouth tightens. He looks back at you. His eyes meet yours and the muscles in his face relax.  
“Charles, this is Y/N Storm. Y/N, this is my very best friend, Charles Brandon.” The King says. You travel your eyes back to Brandon. He sends you an infectious smile. You just can’t help smiling back. “My Lady.” Brandon purrs. “Please, I am not a Lady.” You say softly. Brandon chuckles, a deep warm chuckle. You decide that you will have him, one way or another.

You feast and the night grows later.

You mingle with the ladies of the court, encouraged by your ‘father’ to make friends. You laugh and talk and find out things about Charles Brandon and King Henry. Their voracious appetite for women most of all. 

Henry gestures Brandon closer. “Invite the Alchemist’s daughter to my bedchambers. I desire her.” He whispers. “Yes your majesty.” Brandon answers. But there is a tightening in his jaw. But he bows and goes over to you all the same.

“Miss Storm.” Brandon gently grazes your shoulder. You turn to him, your skirts billowing as you swirl around. He is closer than you expected, you almost bump into his wide chest. “Mister Brandon.” You cooe.   
From this close you can see that his left iris isn’t completely blue, but that there is a brown fleck that mirrors the light of the candles illuminating the hall. “The King requests your presence in his bed chambers.” You see a muscle just underneath his jaw twitch.   
“Lead me there.” You cooe. “As you wish.” He offers you his arm. You accept it and smile up at him. “You really are lovely.” Brandon murmurs. “Now now Mister Brandon, you are too forthcoming.” You play at being modest, just to be coy.

Charles knocks at the King’s door. Henry is very swift to open. “There you are.” He grins at you. “Here I am indeed.” You reply. You find that Henry’s pleasant smile barely reaches his eyes. “Leave her to me Charles.” Says The King. “Yes your majesty.” Brandon bows. You slip your arms from his and cross the threshold of the King’s chambers. 

Henry closes the doors behind you. 

You turn to him. “Listen, Your Majesty, I am not here to let you fuck me.” You decide not to play around. “Then why are you here?” The King asks. “I am here to get to know you.” You say softly. “So I had Charles bring you just to talk? I could have been fucking Lady Blount.” Henry all but thunders.


	2. Laying Down Some Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry does not get what he wants, but neither does Charles

“I understand that you’d much rather have sex right now, be it with me, or with any other lady, safe of course of her majesty the queen.” You retrott. The King grows red in the face. “You are very bold, Miss Storm.” He hisses. “Please, call me Y/N.” You cooe.   
“Give me one good reason I should not throw you out of the window.” Henry roars. “How about a good night’s rest, free of tension?” You reply. That pique’s the King’s interest. He tilts his head and most of the flusters withdraws from his face. “Let me take off that jerkin and shirt, your majesty.” You purr. Henry answers with a minute nod. 

You help the King out of his jerkin and shirt. Henry is well built and well groomed. “Do you like what you see?” He purrs. “You are handsome, your Majesty, I shall not deny. But you are not my type.” You cooe coyly. Henry seems very annoyed with that answer. “I do prefer a man wider in the chest and broader in the shoulders, with more on his chest.” You imagine Brandon’s chest to be adequately hairy to your taste.   
“But I am the King!” Henry protests. You titter a faux giggle and traipse around the chambers in search of oil. “I am well aware, your majesty.” You find what you are looking for. “On the bed, on your stomach, if you please, your majesty.” You cooe. 

To your surprise, the King obliges. You sit down, on his arse. “Are you comfortable?” Henry looks at you over his shoulder. “I haven’t been comfortable since I moved here.” You say, very honest. The dresses are strange, the bed is lumpy and you have to navigate the strict social rules like it is a chain traffic accident waiting to happen.   
Henry’s brow furrow. “Where did you move from?” He asks. “The Netherlands.” You reply. “Why’d you move?” Henry asks. “You will have to ask father, he did not tell me.” You answer.  
You trickle oil on Henry’s back. A little yelp issues from the King’s lips. “Did you not like that, your majesty.” You purr. You put aside the bottle of oil. It’s scent is like lavender. You begin with Henry’s shoulders, massaging deeply. 

You work slowly down his back. “Damn woman, you are good at this.” Henry groans. “You bet your bumm I am.” You purr. You deftly rubb the knots out of his muscles. The King is putty under your hands. 

“Are you sure I can’t persuade you?” Henry murmurs. You gently slide off of him. You give him a last rub down and get up to wipe your hands on a washcloth.   
Henry turns to his side, watching you. “Yes, I am very sure.” You return to the bed. The King wears an expression more suitable to a petulant child. You lay down beside him. “You should take off your dress.” Henry’s fingers find the lacing of your bodice. “I’m fine, thanks.” You reply. But secretly you are relieved when your bodice opens up a little and allows you some room to breath.   
You reach out for the King nonetheless. You pull him close, motioning him to rest his head on your belly. “Sleep now, your majesty.” You purr softly. Henry nuzzles his face into the fabric of your dress. You run your hand into his hair. Slowly you massage his scalp.   
Henry quickly falls asleep.

You wake up with Henry clinging to you like a baby koala. And your dress wrapped around you like a wrung out dishcloth. You carefully disentangle yourself from the King. It does wake him up, though.   
“What?” He groans. “I am going to get up.” You whisper. “You won’t.” He puts his arms around you again. You chuckle and rake your fingers through his hair. Henry is warm and you have to admit you don’t really mind his nearness. “I have to make my water and no one should see me go home.” You say softly. With a bit of a whine, The King let’s you go.  
You slip out of bed, smoothing out your dress as best you can. “Lace me up, will you?” You ask Henry. The King sits up and pulls the laces of your bodice shut. He ties them rather tightly and for a moment you feel like your breasts will spill over the top. 

You go to the privy to make your water.

When you come back into the bedchamber, Henry’s pulled his shirt over his head. “I’ll call you a carriage. I don’t want you to have to walk home.” He says. “Thank you, your majesty.” You press a kiss to his cheek.  
Henry opens the door of his chambers and yells at a footman to have a carriage readied. You rake your fingers through your hair, to make sure it looks a little less like a nest of snakes and more like normal hair, and then braid it.   
Henry puts his arms around you from behind. “Can’t you stay?” He asks. “No, your majesty. No one shall I know I was here.” You cooe.

You leave, swiftly, the carriage bringing you home.

Charles Brandon sits down by the King’s side. “How was she, your majesty?” He asks. His tone is just a bit too eager, too greedy. But it escapes Henry’s notice. “I did not have her.” He harrumphs. A smile bursts onto Charles’ face, like the sun erupting from behind the clouds. He turns away from Henry to control his expression.  
“How come you did not have her? Couldn’t get it up?” Charles teases. He knows he can tease his friend. “She didn’t want me.” Henry makes a bitter face. Never before has he been rejected like this. “Now there is a surprise.” Charles purrs. 

Henry turns to Charles with a jerk. “I need you to do something for me.” He says with a wide foxy grin. Charles smirks back at the King. “I need you to fuck her.” Henry says. Charles tilts his head a little. “The Alchemist’s daughter?” He asks. Henry nods. “I want you to fuck her until she is with child. Your bastard child. And then you do what you do, you walk away.” He smirks wickedly. “As you wish, your majesty.” Charles cooes.

You are invited to court, not three days later. 

This time, Nyarlathotep is not invited. He does not seem to mind, though. “You do your best, sweetling.” He purrs. “Do I bed down with this King this time?” You ask. The Crawling Chaos shakes his head. “You won’t have the King. Not in this story.” He purrs. 

He waves as you take off in the ordered carriage. 

You arrive at court and are escorted to the dining hall at once. There is music and people are dancing, like the last time. “Miss Y/N Storm.” The Announcer shouts. The King jumps up as if he is suddenly pricked in the butt. “Come here.” He calls out to you.   
You head to the main table. “Your majesty.” You bow. “Y/N, sit down beside me.” Henry gestures to the empty seat beside his side. On his other sits the queen. You courtesy to both her and the King. The Queen gives you an icey look.

You sit down. On your other side you find Brandon. He smiles widely at you. “Miss Storm, what pleasure to see you again.” He murrs. His voice raises gooseflesh on your arms and spine, in a good way. “Mister Brandon, a pleasure indeed.” You cooe. You allow a flush on your face this time.   
“The King tells me you are from Holland.” Brandon says. You nod, affirming. “What has brought you to England?” Brandon smiles at you and you feel like you are on fire. He most certainly is a charming man. “I simply moved here with my father.” You answer.  
“Do you like it here in England?” He asks. “Oh yes, I do. Especially because we lived in a small farmers town, in The Netherlands. There is so much more to do and see here.” You reply. “I could show you much more.” Brandon suggests. “Such as.” You lean over to him. His eyes are trained on your lips. “I could take you riding.” He purrs. “But I don’t have a horse… Not anymore.” You mutter. “That should not be a problem.” Brandon winks.

Two days later, you meet Charles Brandon at the Royal Stables. 

He is a bit surprised with how you are dressed. “Never have I seen a woman wear breeches.” He says. “I hate side saddle.” You simply answer. “Very well.” Brandon replies. He gestures to a groom. A pretty dapple grey palfrey is brought towards you. “This is Dancer.” Brandon says. You gently stroke the horse over her silk soft muzzle. “Hello pretty one.” You cooe. The mare nickers and shoves her head against you. You laugh happily.  
When you look up, you find Brandon looking at you. He smirks at your eyes meet his. “Shall we?” He asks. A second groom brings over a large bay courser. Brandon mounts up and looks down on you. “Do you need a leg up?” The groom holding the grey mare asks. “No, I’m fine.” You grip the saddle, put one leg in the stirrup and draw yourself into the saddle.

Brandon gives his horse his heels. The big bay stallion trotts off. You nudge your mare and she follows swiftly. You catch up to Brandon. Your horses noses his. “I must admit, you look gorgeous like this, so authoritative and confident.” Brandon says. “Thank you, Mister Brandon.” You purr in reply. “Please, say Charles.” He cooes in return.

The woods beyond the palace are vast. 

You ride for a good while, before Charles finds a meadow. He dismounts and ties his horse to a tree. He then walks up to your horse and leads it to another tree, tying her down. “Let me help you down.” He cooes. You swing your leg over the saddle and Charles grabs you by the hips, lifting you out of the saddle.   
Gently he puts you down. His hands linger on your hips. You put your hands on his chest. His eyes trail to your lips. “Are you going to kiss me, Charles?” You ask. “Do you want that?” He replies. You make a thoughtful noise. Do you want to kiss this man, with whom you had all of four interactions with?   
Charles is a handsome young man. He is charming and kind. But you know nothing about him, safe for the fact that he is a very talented horseman.   
You reach up to trail your finger down his sharp jaw. Charles smiles down on you. He leans in a little. You can see the brown fleck in his otherwise blue eyes very clearly now. It is dark and unpredictable. In the blue of his eyes you can see mischief and the lust of him. But the brown fleck is the unknown. And you sink down into it.

“Yes, I want that.” You say softly. 

Charles’ large hand cups your cheek. You close your eyes. Immediately Charles’ lips are upon yours. You can’t help a small moan. Charles’ lips are strong, firm and warm.   
His tongue licks softly at your upper lip. You shudder at how subtle, yet pleasurably he does this. You open your mouth for you. You moan again as his tongue invades your mouth. Everything about this man is perfectly measured. From his short cropped hair, to the way he ventures his hand from your hip, to your butt. 

You break away, out of breath sooner than you thought. “Good God, Charles.” You whisper. “Would you like more?” He murmurs. “Not yet.” You cooe. Charles looks very disappointed. “I should not give myself up so easily, Charles.” You whisper. “Of course you shouldn’t.” He agrees warmly.  
“Shall we keep riding?” You escape his arms. You turn to your horse. Charles grabs you by the hips and lifts you back into the saddle. “We shall.” He unties your horse. You give the mare your heels and race into the woods. Charles unties his own horse, mounts up and chases after you.

It is late in the afternoon when you return to the palace. 

Grooms take the horses back to the stables. Charles puts one hand on your waist and cups your face with the other. “When will I see you again?” He asks. “Soon…” You mumble. “Will you come to the tennis match on friday?” He suggests. “Oh… Yes of course.” You answer.  
Charles leans in again. This time the kiss is slow and languid. You feel like you are melting. But you break away. “I must go now. I have chores to do.” You say softly. “I’ll summon a carriage.” Charles replies. 

The carriage brings you home, far too quickly to your taste.

That Friday, you attend the Tennis match. With ‘your father’ in tow. 

You are spotted by the King. He approaches three friends in tow. Charles and the two more slender gentlemen. “Y/N, Nicholas, what a lovely coïncidence.” Henry says warmly. “These are my friends, Charles, William and Anthony.” He gestures to the slender gents.  
William, a blond young man and Anthony, black of hair, shake Nyarlathotep’s hand and kiss your knuckles. They ‘my lady’ you and you tell them you are not a lady. Charles also shakes Nyarlathotep’s hand.   
But he cups your face with both hands and greedily kisses you. Henry whistles and William and Anthony laugh loudly. Charles is unbothered and keeps kissing you. You tighten your hands in his shirt.   
“That is for good luck.” Charles whispers as he breaks away. “You’ll need it.” Anthony says. “No we won’t.” Henry argues. It’s obvious the King is not accustomed to losing. “Good luck either way.” You press a kiss on Henry’s cheek and wink. Anthony and William wolf whistle. 

You and Nyarlathotep take your seat at the bleachers, if that is what it is called in the 16th century. The King and his three friends enter the playing field, in what looks like this centuries version of underwear. White tights, black bloomers and white undershirts. “They look ridiculous.” You whisper to the Crawling Chaos. “One of them is going to be your husband.” He smirks smugly. You roll your eyes. “As long as it is not The King.” You reply. The Elder God chuckles darkly.  
You spectate the tennis match. It is Anthony and William against Charles and the King. Anthony and William are not giving anything away. But Charles and Henry are ferocious players. And like modern tennis, royal tennis goes hand in hand with strange caveman noises. “This is ridiculous.” You whisper to Nyarlathotep.

Charles and the King win. Everyone cheers. 

Nyarlathotep and you meet The King and his friends in the palace gardens. A garden party is already in full swing. “Welcome, welcome.” The King calls out. You courtesy and the Elder God bows. “Thank you for the invitation, your majesty.” The Crawling Chaos purrs. “Any opportunity to have you at court Nicholas.” Henry claps Nyarlathotep on the shoulder.  
“Come meet my daughter.” He gestures. He leads Nyarlathotep to the queen and her ladies. You follow and Charles falls in beside you. He is silent while you walk. He understands the princess has priority.   
You courtesy to the queen, she nods, but seems a little distasteful at seeing you. Maybe she knows that Henry tried it on with you. But she also does not look to pleased to be in the presence of the Crawling Chaos. Maybe she knows what he is, instinctually. You don’t think it beyond her.   
The princess is of course a little dream of a girl. Henry lifts her in his arms and introduces her to you and Nyarlathotep. You courtesy for the princess and she giggles. 

You mingle, talking to ladies you have encountered before. You drink and you eat. 

“May I have this dance?” Charles asks. “Naturally.” You take the hand he’s offering. Charles grins and leads you to the other dancers. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you for a single second.   
“Will you come to me tonight, to celebrate?” He asks. “But Mister Brandon, whatever do you mean?” You feign innocence. “I think you know.” Charles twirls you and reels you in. His crotch presses against your ass. Layers of skirts prevent you from feeling what his breeches are filled with. “I truly don’t.” You purr.   
Charles presses a kiss behind your ear. “Come to my chambers.” He whispers, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “To my bed.” He noses at your neck. He knows precisely how to play you. You are probably not the first woman he’s tried his luck with.   
Which is probably which you decide to make him wait for it. To see if you are not just the next woman he fucks. You don’t want to grow attached to this man, only for him to swiftly move on. “Not tonight.” You tell him softly. You dance away from him, sending him a coy smile. His fingers curl around your wrist and he draws you near him again. “Why not?” He asks. The sultry tone of his voice makes your inside turn to putty. “I am not the sort of woman to grace just anyone’s sheets.” You purr. 

You leave the group of dancers, slightly out of breath. Charles follows, like a clingy puppy. 

“Please.” He asks. You turn to him. “Charles, don’t push the matter.” You say. Charles looks like you kicked him in the groin. You reach up and cup his cheek. “If you really want me, you will wait for me.” You cooe.   
“But…” Charles begins to protest. You rub his cheek with your thumb and make a soothing sound. “No Charles. I want to be worth the wait.” You cooe. Charles casts his eyes down. He takes a step back. “If you will excuse me.” He says. “Sure, go.” You reply. Charles gives you a small, stiff bow and takes his leave. “Prick.” You mumble under his breath.

The Crawling Chaos finds you, seething, by the pond. “What is the matter, daughter mine.” He purrs. His empty grey eyes flash with amusement. He is enjoying this, so much. You turn to him, biting your lip. “Stop gloating.” You whisper. “You hate that he is only out to fuck you, don’t you?” Nyarlathotep purrs.   
“He is a stunner.” You sigh. “I am sure you come up with something. You have done so before.” The Elder God strokes your cheek. You nodd. “Charles Brandon will rue the day he decided I smash and pass me.” You mumble.

The King walks, with his best friend, alone, away from the hustle and bustle of the party. “No luck so far?” Henry smirks smugly. It does amuse him that Charles doesn’t have his usual success rate. Charles shakes his head. “She is different. Not virtuous, but stubborn.” He mutters. “She is unlike any woman I have ever pursued.” He says. “I must bid, don’t give up. I have given you an order.” The King tells him. “I shan’t, your majesty.” Charles replies.

“Nicholas, come here.” The King gestures. Nyarlathotep walks over to the royal table. He bows to the King and gives the Queen a little nod. “How would you and your daughter like to live at the palace?” Henry asks. The Crawling Chaos smiles. This is, of course, precisely what he wants. “Naturally, your majesty.” He purrs. “Very well, I will have apartments prepared for the both of you.” Henry smiles back triumphantly.

It takes not three days for this to be done. 

A carriage comes to retrieve you. The footman, holding the door for you, assures you that you only have to bring your most prized possessions. These things are only few, so you leave swiftly.

Naturally the King is waiting for you at the palace.   
“Nicholas, Y/N, what a gift of you to take up residence under my roof.” He says. The Crawling Chaos bows. “We are eternally grateful, your majesty. I shall labour tirelessly to stock your coffers.” He purrs. “Wonderful.” Henry smirks. Then he turns to you. You courtesy. “Y/N, I am so glad that you will grace my court. I hope you will meet someone suitable to wed.” He cooes. A viper, hidden in the rosebush. “I do hope so too.” You reply sweetly. You are not going to let his sourness blow you away. It is probably because you didn’t want to sleep with him.  
“I will personally show you to your chambers.” Henry smirks. “Follow me.” He gestures. You have a sneaking suspicion this is going to go wrong. The King will play a prank. Henry offers you his arm. You take it. If he is playing a game, you decide you will play. You are even slightly interested to see where Henry will take this. 

“Y/N, these are your chambers, you will have a maid at your disposal.” Henry gestures. A serving man opens the door. Henry nudges you forward. You cross the threshold. The room is large and very well furbished. Henry follows you in. “Beyond that door is your bedchamber.” He points at a door at the other end of the room. “And my father?” You ask. You do your best to sell the modest young woman facade. “Your father has the chambers three doors over.” Henry purrs. You are not sure if he bought your act.  
“Shall we leave her to it, then?” Henry asks Nyarlathotep. The Elder God nods. The both of them exit your chambers. Henry closes the door behind him. You sigh and look around. It is such a richly furnished room, with beautiful rugs and tapestries. These are the better apartments in the palace. You wonder why the King gave you these chambers. 

You make a fire in the hearth and sit down by it, you peer into the flames, trying to see something in it, hoping for a premonition. But no such luck, the flames are just the flames. 

There is a knock on your door. You look up. “Come in!” You call, expecting it to be the Crawling Chaos. The door swings open to reveal Charles Brandon. He steps into your room and closes the door. “Mister Brandon.” You say. You find that you are breathless at the sight of him. “Miss Storm.” He smiles widely at you. It's a smile that makes your heart stop.   
“So, decided to come nipping at my heels again?” You cooe. Charles heaves a sigh, but his smile does not falter. “I cannot stop thinking of you.” He says. You gesture him to come over. Charles comes over you. “Sit you.” You gesture at the other chair by the fire. Charles obliges. You sigh softly and look at him.   
“What am I to do with you?” You ask softly. Charles tilts his head a little. “Well, your bed chambers are over there.” He gestures. You shake your head. “No, Charles.” You say. Something in his jaw tightens. “Why not?” He asks sharply. “It is not because you are protecting your virtue. A woman that wears breeches is either working a job that allows for no skirt or provoking.” He says. You shake your head. “It is how I am comfortable. However, you are correct in saying that I am not holding out to save my maiden head. I left that in The Netherlands.” You reply.   
Charles leans back into his chair and gives you a taxating look. “Then why won’t you bed down with me?” He asks. “Because, Charles, I don’t have sex with men I have no emotional bond to. If you want so badly to fuck me, get to know me. Make me smile, understand my mind and let me understand yours. Not a hard feat, but it requires effort.” You answer. Charles sucks on the insides of his lips. “You are not going to make this easy on me, will you?” He asks. “That depends on you.” You purr. 

Charles rises from his chair and crouches in front of you. “What must I do?” He asks. “Get to know, court me, show me who you truly are.” You grasp his chin and make him look you in the eyes. Charles’ jaw tightens a little, but the tension is different this time. “Shall I start now?” He murrs.   
You laugh. “How would you like to start, Charles?” You tease joyfully. Charles rises to his feet again. He put his hands on the arm rests of your chair. He leans into your personal space. You look him in the eyes. You are pretty sure you already can’t get enough of studying his eyes. Heterochromia is such a groovy mutation after all.   
“God, Charles, your eyes are so beautiful.” You cup his face with both hands. Charles chuckles deeply. “Is that something you like?” He asks. “Yes, I like your eyes, especially that brown fleck. I might write some prose about it.” You reply. Charles smirks widely.   
He leans in, closing the distance. His lips are insistent on yours. You kiss back languidly, not letting him dictate the kiss this time. Charles huffs a little, but does not push it.   
You run one hand to the back of his skull. You drag the tips of your fingers over his very short hair. Charles groans softly against your lips. It is a sound you very much enjoy. A sound you hope you get to hear much more of.  
You suck softly on his full bottom lip. Charles tightens his hold on the arm rests of your chair. It causes him to also jerk the chair slightly forward, the scraping sound taking you slightly out of the kiss. As if he knows this, Charles nips at your upper lip. You moan softly in response.

You pull back, leaning into the cushions of your chair. “You shouldn’t do this Charles.” You scratch gently through his stubble. Charles closes his eyes to enjoy your ministrations. “Why not?” He asks. “I might just devour you whole. I’ll leave nothing for the dogs.” You reply. “I like the sound of that.” Charles purrs. He closes the distance again, for a slow, languid kiss. You kiss back, unable to deny him.  
Charles backs away and sits down in his chair. He turns his eyes to the hearth fire. There is a sated little smirk on his lips. “Look at you, you think you have already won me, Master Brandon.” You cooe. “Have I not?” He asks. “Oh come now, two battles do not a war make, or win, for that matter.” You answer. Charles tilts his head thoughtfully. “You are a clever girl.” He says.   
“I am not a girl, Charles, I am a woman.” You tell him. “Oh and what a woman.” Charles agrees. “And you’d do well to remember that. If you don’t, you might get hurt.” You wink. “Oh you are a challenge and a half.” Charles smirks. You shake your head. “I am not a challenge, I am a person.” You disagree. Charles at least has the audacity to look ashamed. 

“I think it is time for you to go now.” You say to Charles. “I …” Charles thinks of something to say. “No Charles. Not now, next time, maybe.” You tell him gently. Charles gets up from his chair.   
“Good evening.” He gives you a polite little nod and leaves your chambers. “Good evening.” You say softly, but too late for him to hear. Your heart gives a little clench. You know Charles is not going to be an easy man, in any way. But god is he good. 

You have dinner with Nyarlathotep, in his chambers. 

“Are you happy?” The Elder God asks. “I don’t know.” You reply. “Is there something lacking?” He frowns. “Yeah, men that act like I am used to.” You reply. “I am sure he is confused by you too.” Nyarlathotep chuckles. “If only. I think I just frustrate him.” You says.  
The Crawling Chaos sips his wine. “This is the 16th century, my sweet. In this time, men are not expected to be very faithful. Their sexdrive is thought to be much higher than that of women.” He says. “Bull crap, of course.” You groan. “Naturally.” Nyarlathotep grees dryly.

You adapt swiftly to life at Whitehall Palace. 

You make friends with a few of the ladies at court and even become rather close with William Compton, who is, along with Anthony Knivert and Charles Brandon, the king’s closest friend. 

The King himself, of course keeps you on your toes. But you can’t help warming up to him. 

There is only one factor that stops you from being 100% at ease.

Charles Brandon…

What a man! Half the women at court wet their small clothes for him. And he sure as hell does not mind helping them with the result of it. He is shameless about it. And worst, his chambers are three doors down from yours. Sometimes you can hear him having sex.

So you withdraw from him.


	3. Eating Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You make Charles hold out. Can he last the month?

You are standing still for the tailor. Why in the name of Azatoth Henry is demanding to gift you a dress, if of course beyond you, but you refuse to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’s send the tailor to your chambers and told you no expense will be spared. Maybe he intends to appease your ‘father’?

There is a knock on the door. “It’s open!” You yells. You fully expect it to be Henry, coming to check on the dress’ progress.  
Once again, you are wrong and is it Charles Brandon who enters your chambers.

There you stand, in your under dress. Charles eyes you hungrily. You fluster darkly. “What can I do for you. Mister Brandon?” You ask icily. It takes so much energy to maintain that tone. Charles makes you feel all sorts of things, by just walking up to you.   
“I miss you.” He says. You can’t bodily turn to him, so you gesture him to come up in front of you. Charles obliges. Too bad his eyes are trained on your chest. “Grab that chair and sit down. And for the love of … looking me in the eyes and not in the cleavage.” You order. He does what you say immediately. It seems that he is not used to getting ordered around like this.

“You miss me?” You ask sharply. “Yes, you are avoiding me and I miss having you around.” He says. “Can’t see why. You have plenty of women around you.” You retrott. “You hate seeing me with other women.” Charles’ voice is accusatory. “I wouldn’t say hate, but you can’t expect me to like it. If you want to build something with me, Charles, you will have to lay the foundations. And this way, our foundations will be very frail.” You reply.  
Charles gives you a frustrated look and sucks on the inside of his bottom lip. “I am a man, you can’t just expect me not to have sex anymore until you decide you are ready!” He all but yells. The tailor clucks in agreement. You give Charles an unimpressed look. “So not having sex for a few weeks is going to kill you?” You ask, voice dripping with disdain. Charles looks absolutely insulted.  
You step down from the platform. The tailor voices no protest, so you assume he is already done with his measuring. 

“Listen Charles, you are not obliged to pursue me. You can just let it go, call me a lost cause and continue skirt chansing. But if you want me, you will have to play my game.” You sink down on his lap, sitting on one muscular thigh. Charles is very swift to wrap his hand around your waist. His fingers press into the cloth of your under dress.   
“Besides, Charles, do you really think that I have no desire.” You cup his chin and trace your fingers up his sharp jaw. Charles’ pupils widen and he looks up at you. His hard exterior is already crumbling. He swallows audibly. “Because I do. I, in fact, have a lot of it. But desire I can control. Desire I will utterly subject you to, when the time is ripe.” You cooe. “And when will that be?” Charles rasps. “When you have proven yourself.” You smirks down on him.  
“But how do I do that?” Charles asks in an exasperated tone. Supply you leap from his lap. Charles all but growls at the loss. “Oh you just tight there, I’ll come back.” You cooe. 

You walk into your bedroom to rummage through your personal stuff. There you find a wolf head pendant. You close your first around it and think deeply of The Crawling Chaos.   
The Elder God appears before your eyes. “What may I do?” He whispers, a smirk sitting wickedly on his pale lips. “I need a tell for when he is sleeping with someone.” You say softly. The Crawling Chaos draws the necklace from your fingers. Green light drips from his fingers into the wolf’s eyes. “It will collect the hairs of the women he beds, for you to count.” He smiles widely at you. “Perfect, thanks.” You lean over to kiss his ice cold cheek.

You bring the necklace to Charles. “Let me give you this.” You sit down on his thigh again. His hand finds your waist again. You gently bring the necklace over his head. “Why a wolf’s head?” Charles asks. “For loyalty. That matters to me, most of all.” You tuck the pendant under his shirt. “I want you to prove that you can be loyal.” You say. “A month, Charles. If you can spend this entire month without a woman, you will have me. I will give you pleasure every single night.” You whisper, leaning in to travel your lips over the shell of his ear. Charles groans darkly.  
His hand finds your cheek and directs your lips to his own. He kisses you slowly, languidly. You whimper softly against his lips. He grows greedy very quickly. With his thumb he rubs your cheek. His other hand tightens on your under dress. 

He stands, scooping you up in his arms. You squeal and put your arms around his neck. “Maybe I just gotta take you.” Charles says hoarsely. “You would not violate me, without consent!” You say, rather loud. “Of course I wouldn’t!” He sounds insulted.   
But he carries you into your bedroom all the same. “Charles, don’t do this to yourself.” You whisper. He throws you onto the bed. “Why shouldn’t I?” He asks. “I am not sleeping with you until you passed the test.” You tell him sharply. Charles’ face takes on that frustrated set again, his muscles tensing in the direction of his lower lip.  
He crawls over you, trapping you with his knees and hands. “Why are you so difficult!?” He hisses. “Difficult, Charles? I just have standards and I am not about to lower them for a handsome face.” You murmur. “You’d be surprised how many women say they won’t, but still do.” Charles says. “I am very unlike most women.” You purr. “And maybe that is why you turn me on so much.” Charles rumbles in reply.  
He leans down to claim your mouth. You have to admit that you have missed his kisses. You moan softly into his mouth. He groans back at you. “Fuck, I needed this.” He mutters, his lips still against yours. “I did too.” You whisper.

Charles attaches his mouth to your neck. You moan, loudly. “Yes, that is correct.” Charles grunts. He kisses, licks and bites at your neck and throat. You want to tell him to stop, but you can’t. You need this so much. You let yourself have this.   
Charles tries to get you out of your under dress. “Oh no you don’t.” You slap at his hand. He glowers at you. “I am not swayed so easily.” You scoot away from him and slip out of bed on the other side. Charles groans in frustration and flops down on the sheets. 

You pick a simple blue dress from your wardrobe and slip into it. “Lace me up, will you.” You cooe to Charles. He grunts and stands up from your bed. “I should just walk away.” He says. But he laces you up all the same.   
“Then why do you stay?” You ask, swirling around to him. “Because I want you too much.” Charles replies. His eyes trail down to your lips again. You can practically smell his yearning. “In due time, in due time.” You cooe. “I can’t wait that long.” Charles demands. “You shall have to.” You purr.  
You press yourself against him and stand on your tippy toes. You press your mouth slowly against his. Charles groans in pleasurable surprise. He kisses you back, sensually and gently. You moan sweetly against his lips. His hand finds the small of your back, the other cupping the back of your head. You press yourself against his strong, wide torso. The kiss deepens once again. 

Charles breaks away this time. 

“I should go.” He says. “Yes, you should.” You agree. “But I can’t.” He whispers. “Why can’t you?” You press your chest against his. Damn, you love having this man in the palm of your hand. “I cannot get enough of kissing you.” Charles breathes. “Then don’t stop.” You purr. 

Charles leans down to kiss you again.

He keeps kissing you for a long while. You stand there, entwined in each other. It is perfect, it is all you need for a good while.

Your lungs burn as you pull away from him.

“I must leave now, before I take what I want by force. I do not want to hurt you.” Charles says. You give a small nod. You press a last, chate kiss to his lips. “Thank you, Charles.” You whisper. Charles gives you a small nod and slowly lets you go. You instantly regret that. He is so strong and warm. But you are determined to do this your way. 

“Good day, Y/N.” He mutters. “Good day Charles.” You reply.

You watch while he leaves, your heart giving a little churn. 

How you manage to not run into him for an entire week is beyond you. Maybe he is on an errand for the king. 

But when you see him again, exactly a week later, it is at a party in the gardens. You dance first with the King and then William.   
But then Charles approaches you. “May I?” He asks. “Naturally.” William nods. “What if I don’t want to?” You giggle. “That is right, William, she doesn’t want to be spoken for.” Charles says. “You’d do well to remember.” You tell him. William laughs gently.   
Charles takes your waist and drags you happily away from William. “Where have you been?” You ask. “I have been to Wales, for a parley with some Baron. Henry is interested in one of his daughters. Plans to have her installed with the queen.” Charles replies. “I have missed you.” You cooe. “And I you.” He murrs.   
You dance for a little while longer, but not much. Too soon you feel your desire for him burn.

You lead him away from the festivities. 

“Kiss me Charles.” You murmur. You might hold out on his sexually, but that does not mean you are not going to snog him.   
“Gladly.” Charles purrs. He draws your body against his and his lips fall down upon yours. You snake your arms around his neck and kiss him back greedily. Charles moans into your mouth and you moan back at him. You really needed this. 

You kiss for a long time. 

When you break away from Charles, it is because your belly growls. “We should get something to eat.” Charles chuckles. He takes you by the hand and leads you back to the party.

“There you are.” Henry comes over at once. “You were looking for us?” Charles says with a good natured smile at the King. “Well, Anthony and William were talking about another tennis match, on monday and I knew you would want to be in.” Henry says. Charles calmly nods. “I most certainly do.” He replies. “Grand, monday it is?” Henry grins. “Monday.” Charles affirms. “You better come watch.” Henry tells you. “Yes your Majesty.” You courtesy.   
“So, how are you getting on at court, my dear?” Henry asks. You shrug a little. You place your hand on Charles’ arm and he sends you an absolute charmer of a smile. “I am getting on quite nicely.” You cooe, more at Charles than at Henry. “Oh, when is the wedding?” Henry teases. You narrow your eyes at Charles. “Three months, half a year.” You joke. “That is still quite a while.” Henry chuckles. “I like to take my time. Make sure we befit each other.” You purr. “It is so long a wait I can hardly bear it.” Charles dramatically places his hand over his head. He and Henry laugh loudly. You roll your eyes.   
Charles leans down to press a slow kiss to your lips. “I meant not to tease you, my love.” He cooes. You feel your skip a beat at being called my love. “I know, I know.” You stroke his cheek. You share another kiss. Henry coughs dryly. “Stop it you two. Either bed each other, or stop it.” He says. You flush a little and Charles laughs sheepishly.

You sit in between ‘your father’ and Charles for dinner. Charles talks mainly to the king, but sometimes his hand touches yours. You can feel your heart flutter. You are most definitely head over heels for Charles.

After dinner he follows you to your chambers.

It’s time for the test.   
You pull softly on the thin chain around his neck. The wolf head pendant erupts from his shirt. In it’s maw, there is a ball of hair. You press your lips together and pull the ball loose.   
You sit at your writing desk and carefully untangle them. Charles speaks not a word. But you can feel he is nervous, as he should be. You don’t speak to him until the hairs are full untangled. Five long hairs lay before you on your desk. One black, two brown and two blond.   
You turn to him. “You failed me.” You say. Charles looks like you slapped him across the face. And you might as well have. Five women, in one week, that most certainly displeases you. “I’m s-” Charles begins. “No you are not. You are not sorry.” You bark. Charles startles at your tone. You feel extremely justified. 

“I have needs, Y/N, need you will not meet!” He cries out. You get up. “A month, a month is all I ask of you Charles! Is it so bloody hard!” You snarl. He takes a stumbling step back. “I wasn’t wi-” He begins to protest. “Five women, Charles, in one week.” You hiss. “How? How do you know?” Evidently he has no idea what you just did to figure that one out. “I just do.” You murmur. “So you better behave.” You narrow your eyes at him.   
Charles casts his eyes down. “My love, if I have… If I have upset you... “ He mutters. “Don’t you say you did not mean it. Don’t say you thought of me.” You sneer. “I did not love them. I only fucked them to relieve myself.” Charles says sheepishly. You sigh and shake your head. 

You stand and go over to him. 

“How can I make it up to you?” Charles asks. There is a hint of desperation in his voice. “Show me that you can keep your cock in your breeches for a month.” You reply.   
Tentatively he reaches out to you. You don’t step away from him. His hand places gently on your waist. He draws your body against his.   
You are weak. You are so weak for this man. And you hate yourself for it, a little bit. 

“Do better coming week, please. I beg of you, Charles.” You lift your hand to stroke his face. “I want so badly for this to work. I want to be with you.” You say gently. Charles swallows deeply. “I .. I will.” He murmurs. 

And he does, marginally.

The next time you check the wolf’s head, a full week later, you find a much smaller ball of hair. You disentangle two hairs. Black and blond.   
You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Charles, why?” You mutter. “I had a need.” It is the same spiel again.

You send Charles away.

He comes back to you three evenings later. Your maid leads him into your chambers. “Good evening Charles.” You say sweetly. “Good evening, Y/N.” He murmurs warmly. He comes over, sitting across from you. “I have a need. And .. I thought that instead of … Instead of finding someone else.. I could turn to you.” He sounds nervous and hesitant.   
“Sit down.” You gesture. Charles obliges, hurriedly. His big baby blues turn to you. “Well, I think I am glad you came to me. I cannot answer your needs now, you know why. But I can put you at ease.” You lean over and gently caress his hand. Charles gives you a wain smile. “I knew you’d say that.” There is something harsh in his voice. “And still you sought me out.” You smile. Charles slowly nods. “And still I sought you out.” He whispers.

You get up from your own chair and drape yourself on his lap. “I am so proud of that.” You cooe softly. You stroke his face and scalp. Charles noses into your neck. He inhales the scent of you. He presses soft kisses on your neck and holds you close against his body. “I am so weak, my love. I am wanting, I am needing.” He murmurs. You take him down to such a basic state, emotionally as well as for his desires. He is almost mindless for you.  
“You will be rewarded if you persevere.” You cooe. Charles presses a greedy, open mouthed kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder. You moan, rather loudly. Charles presses his teeth to your skin. “Ah! Charles!” You cry out for him. Charles groans and moves his mouth a little bit, only to bite you again. You moan for him.

His hand slips from your waist, into your lap. He presses his hand down, trying to provide you friction. You twine his fingers with your own. “Charles, please. Don’t make this so hard on yourself.” You say softly. “I want to please you.” He murmurs against the skin of your throat. “I know. And you will. Not this way, though, not yet.” You cooe. Charles huffs and his body slumps into yours.  
He gets up, scooping you up bridal style. You squeal and put your arm around his shoulders. “Be careful with me, Master Brandon.” You giggle. “I shall.” Charles murmurs. He carries you over to the bed and gently puts you down onto the silk sheets. 

He sits on the edge of the bed, just looking down on you. 

After a while he reaches out to stroke your face. You are very impressed with his self control in those moments. You gently take his hand and kiss at his knuckles.

His control falters. He lays down beside you and draws your body against his. He kisses you fiercely. His hand tangles one hand into your hair and puts the other onto your waist. He rolls onto his back and pulls you on top of him. You happily kiss him back, stroking his hair and his face. Charles groans a little.   
His hands slip down to your back and ass. You are wearing a form fitting dress, not one of those pillow asses numbers. Charles can cup a good feel. He groans and squeezes your ass. You whimper against his mouth.   
Charles breaks away slowly. “I like those sounds.” He murmurs. “Well, shall we say you repay me in equal coin.” You whisper. Charles grins a little. “Do you like that?” He asks. “Yes, Charles. I like the sounds you make, too.” You cooe. That causes Charles to chuckle.  
He pulls you close again. The kiss you share is slow and sensual and Charles is doing his best to ruck up your skirts. You bite his lower lip, to warn him. Charles grunts darkly in response. You feel something harden below you. 

You pull away and roll off of him. Lying down on your side, you look at him. You eyes trail to his crotch. His erection is evident in his leather breeches. It seems he likes some pain with his pleasure.

“We stop here, for now.” You cooe softly. You gently stroke his face. “Close your eyes.” You say softly. Charles obliges.   
You set to learning all the details of his face. The ridges of his eyebrows, that is where you start. Charles relaxes, slowly. Your fingers dip lower, slightly touching his eyelids and running down his nose. You explore his cheek and chin, feeling his scruff under your fingertips. You run your index finger over his perfect cupid's bow lips. Charles moans a little. His tongue flicks out to your finger. “Oh Charles.” You whisper.   
Playfully he bites at your fingertip. He opens his eyes. You find the blue of his eyes filled with mischief. You shake your head. “That won’t do.” You say. Charles arches a brow.

You lay on your back an gesture. “Come here.” You gesture. Charles obliges and lays his head down on your chest. You run your fingers through his hair. Charles murrs pleasurably. He likes it. You gently caress his face as well.   
Slowly Charles relaxes under your touches. “Much better.” You cooe. Charles makes no reply. He is comfortable and calm now. “That’s right, rest now.” You whisper. Charles heaves a little sigh and noses closer against you.

He falls asleep. 

You hold him. He, in his sleep, curls around you, pulling your body against his.

There is a tourney on Saturday. 

“Allow me to wear your favour, please.” Charles asks. “Naturally.” You produce a string of lace from your sleeve. You tie it on the end of his lance and blow him a kiss. Henry grins at you and lowers his visor.   
He tilts against Anthony. He breaks his first lance, but Anthony remains seated then. The second tilt, he thrusts Anthony out of the saddle. The crowds cheer and so do you.   
Charles’ second tilt is against an older gentleman. Charles unhorses him right away. The younger spectators take this much better than the older generation. The King cheers loudest of all.

Charles sits down beside you, still in full armour. He takes off his helmet and smiles widely at you. “Your favour is bringing me luck, my love.” He says. “So it seems.” You agree. He grins and leans over for a kiss. You are all too happy to let him kiss you.  
You spectate the king’s tilts together. You hold Charles’ hand and for a good while it seems like two of you are a normal functioning couple. For a good while you are perfectly happy.

The last tilt is Charles against Henry.

To your surprise, Charles rides with full intention and breaks his lace against Henry’s shield in the first tilt. You lean over to the Elder God, who is seated beside you. He looks beyond graceful in blue green silk. “He does not hold back on the king.” You whisper. “Exactly, he will make a good husband. You don’t hold back either. Through him, you will get to the king.” The Crawling Chaos smirks.   
In the second tilt, Henry breaks his lance against Charles’ breastplate, but Charles remains in the saddle. “A draw, this could be interesting.” The Crawling Chaos purrs. You tighten your hands in the cloth of your skirts. You hope for Charles’ victory.  
And yes, in the third tilt, Charles breaks his spear against Henry’s breast. Henry remains seated, but Charles wins the tourney. You jump up and cheer loudest of all.

You meet Charles in his tent, where a groom is helping him out of his armour. “That was bold.” You tell him. Charles grins widely at you. “The King knows that I never hold back and he appreciates me for it.” He says.   
“No one else would dare beat the King.” You shoo the groom away and help Charles out of the rest of his armour. Charles tries to keep his eyes on you. “It was your favour that brought me the victory.” He says. “Don’t be ridiculous Charles, you are simply good at wielding a lance. Better than the King.” You cooe.  
Charles looks up at you. He tilts his head backwards a little bit. You lean in and kiss him slowly. He moans sweetly against your lips. You moan back softly. It is so good to kiss Charles. Especially when he has proven himself so medivally manly.

You tear away from him when you hear clapping. You look up to find Henry entering the tent. “Congratulations, Charles.” The King says jovially. “Lady Luck favoured you today.” He claps his friend on the back. Charles gets up and smirks. “I wore Y/N’s favour.” He sends you a shit eating grin. Henry smiles widely at the both of you. “Well, from her favour, I could not win.” He chuckles.

The next day you have Charles summoned to your chambers. 

“What do you want me for?” He smirks down on you. “Close the door and sit down.” You gesture to the chair by the fire. There is only one chair. But Charles sits down all the same. You drape yourself into his lap.   
“You did so well this week, my love.” You cooe. “Will I get a reward?” Charles rumbles. “Of course you will.” You cooe. You gently stroke his face. “How about a kiss first?” You whisper. You lean in to slowly stroke his lips with your own. Charles groans sweetly. You drink in those groans. They sound amazing. They arouse you.  
You lick your tongue into his mouth and allows him to ruck up your skirt so he can caress your thigh. “Take it slow, sweetling.” You whisper against his lips. Charles grunts in response and rubs your thigh with gentle finger tips. “Your skin is so soft, so pure.” He murmurs to your lips. “I want you, so badly.” He bites softly on your bottomlip. You moan softly. 

After a good while of snogging you gently shoo his hand from your skirts. 

“I got somewhere else to put that hand.” You cooe. You unlace the front of your dress. You draw the cloth down, so your breasts come spilling out. Charles’ eyes widen. You have brought him a present for sure.   
“Go on, go ahead.” You say sweetly. Charles is quick to obey. His large hand cups a breath and he licks his lips. Oh you know exactly what he is going to do with that wicked tongue. Just not yet.   
He is contend with his groping your breasts at first. His large hand fully engulfs your breast, his strong fingers pressing into the vulnerable sensitive skin. He begins to stroke your nipples. Grazing them with his thumb and forefinger. He pinches them and softly pulls at them. You continuousely moan. 

Charles gathers you against his chest and stands. He carries you to your bed chamber and gently drapes you onto the bed.   
He crawls over you and begins to fiercely kiss your chest. “Ah! Charles!” You cry out. Charles groans against your skin. He sucks one of your nipples into his greedy mouth. A high pitched whine issues from your lips. Charles grunts in return. His hand finds your other breast again.   
He gropes you, licks at your nipples, sucks and bites at them. You surely have given him a wonderful gift.

His mouth claims yours rather suddenly. You kiss him back fiercely. Together you moan. He sucks your tongue into his mouth and you clench your fists into his jerkin. 

You call it quits when Charles starts rutting against your leg.

“Not yet.” You say strictly, nudging him off of you. Charles groans and rolls off. “Why are you so mean!” He complains. “You have not earned fucking me yet.” You say. Charles heaves a frustrated sigh. “You can’t just work me up like this!” He all but yells. “I just did. And that is enough for today.” You reach out and run your fingers through his scruff. 

You sit up and reign your breasts back into your dress. You lace your dress up and rake a hand through your hair. 

Unfortunately you find that you might have pushed your luck with rewarding Charles. When you check the wolf’s head again, a full week later, there is a hair in it’s mouth. A single black hair. 

“So you did fuck Buckingham’s daughter?” You know of his bet with the King. “Well it is not like you will answer my passion!” Charles all but yells. “Did you get the purse Henry promised you for, what are you, his whore?” You sneer. You can see in Charles’ eyes that that one stings. His jaws tighten.   
“Oh come here you!” You all but shout. Charles obliges right away. You grab him by the wrist and draw him into your bed chambers. “What are you going to do?” Charles asks, half sounding like he was panicking.

You rummage through the vials and items in your dresser. You find the glass container with green goo. “This.” You retrieve it to Charles. Charles gives it a concerned look. “What is that?” He asks.   
“Drop your breeches.” You all but order. Charles unlaces his breeches and draws them down. “Small clothes too.” You gesture. Charles takes off his small clothes as well. He looks ridiculous in just his jerkin and shirt. “Very well, take everything off.” You say. Charles shirks his jerkin and pulls his shirt over his head.   
“There is a good lad.” You reach up and kiss him slowly. Charles kisses you back, but it is a little insecure. Small wonder, you do keep him on his toes. 

You reach down between his legs, touching him gently. His cock reacts at once. He swiftly grows. “Good lad.” You scoop some of the green stuff onto your fingers and start to rub it on his cock. Charles can’t help a groan.  
“What is that for?” He asks. “It is a medicine, to make sure that you don’t bring me any venereal disease.” You reply. You make sure every inch of his cock is covered with green goop. And he is not modestly endowed. In fact, he is huge.  
You keep working him with a steady hand. Charles begins to grunt a little. “Oh … Y/N .. hn.” He whispers. You spread the green stuff over his glans, under his foreskin. He is whimpering under your ministrations.

“Now Charles, listen carefully to me. You have to be very careful. This medicine is made to cleanse you. If you enter a woman the coming two days, she will hemorrhage and bleed to death, from her womb. If you touch your own cock, wash your hands right after, thoroughly and see me in two days.” You explain.  
But you don’t let him go yet. You keep pumping his cock. The Elder Magic in the medicine needs his climax. Because The Crawling Chaos is cruel like that. 

There are twitching muscles in his calves. “I … oh … Y/N, fuck. I’m so close.” Charles grunts. “Go ahead, cum for me.” You cooe. That is all Charles needs. With a wicked shout, he spends his seed in your hand.   
You go over to the basin and wash your hands thoroughly. “Dress yourself.” You tell him. “That is it?” Charles asks. “Yes, that is it. You did so well last week and this week, just because Henry offers you a purse…” You sigh and shake your head. 

“I will see you in two days.” You tell him. 

The next day Henry waltzes into your chambers. 

“What have you done with Charles?” He barks. You look up from your book. “What is amiss with him?” You ask calmly. “He has a fever!” Henry yells.   
“Bring me to him.” You say.

To your surprise, Henry obliges.

Charles is abed, propped up in the pillows, sweat pearling on his forehead and exposed torso. A physician readies a blade to have him bled. “Out of my way.” You tell the elderly man. He is so startled he does as you say.   
You sat on the edge of Charles’ bed. “This won’t last. It is the medicine I gave you. It makes you sweat, so any disease you might carry will be washed out.” You explain. That is of course only the easiest way to explain a 16th century man what Nyarlathotep’s potion does.   
You take a wet rag and gently wash his forehead. “Don’t worry, luv. I’m here.” You cooe. Charles sends you a weak smile. Even though you put him in this position, you are the only one he wants by his side right now.

“Go, I got this.” You say gently to the King. Henry nods and ushers the physician out with him.

Charles puts his arms around you and reels you in. You let him cuddle you, gently dabbing at his throat and forehead with the cold wet rag. 

“Have I passed your tests now?” He asks, sounding a little bit hoarse. “Yes, you have. At least.. Almost. Only tomorrow to survive.” You cooe. “I might be able to do that.” Charles mumbles. “Good.” You cooe softly.

Charles’ fever breaks the next day. 

You have stayed with him the entire day and night. 

After breaking your fast together, though, you both go your own way. Charles to ride out with Henry, Anthony and William and you to prepare for the following day. 

You make yourself a large pot of special tea. You don’t feel like being a mother just yet. Charles will have to marry your fine ass first. 

The next day you have your maid braid your hair extra prettily and wear a dress you know Charles likes a lot. One of Henry’s gifts, a dress that props your breasts up a lot. You have put perfume on, in your neck, on your wrists, between your breasts and on your thighs.  
You give yourself a smile in the looking glass and square your shoulders. You do plan to give Charles something worth staying loyal to.

You happen upon Charles in the hallway leading to the stables. You just knew you would find him with the horses. 

“My love, I was looking for you.” You cooe. Charles grins widely at you. “Well, sweetheart, you have found me.” He comes over to you. He wraps you up in his arms at once. “How do you feel?” You touch his forehead lightly. “I feel perfect, now that I see you.” Charles says.   
You cup his face with both hands and draw him down to you for a slow kiss. He crushes you against his body and kisses you greedily. 

“Come to my chambers with me.” You whisper to his lips. “Gladly.” Charles murmurs.

You lead him through the hallways. 

Charles is on you the moment the door of your chambers closes behind him. He draws you against him with one hand and locks the door with the other.   
You moan at how greedily he kisses you. All his pent up lust for you is spilling over. You can’t deny him anymore. You desire him so much, too.  
Charles back up against the door and draws you against himself. The kiss grows deeper and his tongue invades your mouth. You moan loudly. Charles groans in return. You rub your tongue against his own earn a wicked little grunt. 

Charles’ hands begin to fumble with the fastenings of your dress. You titter a happy giggle and dance out of his arms. “Bed chamber.” You purr. You crook your finger and run into the bedroom.   
Charles follows suit, taking wide strides. But all the same he only catches up when you are already draped on the bed.

“My god, you are more desirable than anything I have ever been able to imagine.” He grunts. “Then come get me. I am all yours now Charles.” You whisper hotly.

Charles kicks off his boots and comes to the bed. You open your arms to him and pull him down. He kisses you, slowly and sensually. You moan a little to his lips and lick playfully at them. Charles opens his mouth and meets your tongue with his own. He groans huskily.   
You suck his upper lip, slow and sensually. Charles groans louder. You can almost smell his arousal. And he yours, to be sure.

“Get out of that dress.” Charles hisses. 

His words contract his actions, though. He draws open the front lace of your dress and attacks your breasts with his greedy mouth. Obviously he is not going to spend too much time exploring you now. You have pushed his patience already so very far.  
You moan and press his face against your breast. Charles groans deeply against your flesh. “I want you so badly.” He breathes. “You’ll need to get me ready first. I can’t take that cock raw.” You purr, dragging your fingers through his hair. “Oh gladly.” Charles replies. He bites at your nipple. You moan loudly.

He rucks up your skirt and seeks out your folds. He finds your clit right away. You cry out for him at once. Charles smirks widely against your breast.   
Gently he rubs you. He knows exactly how to touch you. It seems he knows even better how to do this than 21st century men. You moan loudly for him. “Oh fuck, I smell you.” Charles murmurs.   
He slips a finger inside of you. You moan sweetly. “Oh god, you are so wet.” Charles smirks. He added a second finger and pumps them in and out. His thumb is still rubbing at your clit. He most certainly knows what he is doing. 

Too soon you are teetering on the edge. “Oh .. f-fuck … Charles … I’m gona..” You whimper. “Cum for me.” Charles purrs. It is all you need. You let the heat consume your muscles, contracting them. Then the lightning flashes through your spine and all your muscles release their tension. You gush arousal over Charles’ fingers. “Yes, that’s good.” Charles purrs. 

He fumbles with the fastenings of his breeches. One handedly, his other hand still on your core. You reach out and help him. You dig your hand into his smallclothes and fish out his cock. He is already hard as a rock. You give him a few slow pumps. Charles groans deeply.

He grabs you by the hips and draws your pelvis against his own. His cock grinds against your folds. “Oh, Charles, please… Please fuck me.” You moan airily.   
Charles obliges right away. He lines his cock up with your wet core. Even though he is large, he slips in easily. That is how wet you are for him.   
“Oh God!” He cries out. “Hmmm fuck.” You whimper. He shoves all the way in. The going never gets rough, but your body sure has to work for it. “God, you’re tight.” Charles says, his voice almost a whimper. “No Charles, you are just very big.” You whisper. He splits you open wide, in a very good way. You are sure you will feel this in the morning.   
Charles looks down on you. His pupils are blown wide, but his eyes are half lidden. “Kiss me.” You whisper. Charles surges forward and kisses you hotly. You moan into his mouth. 

Charles absolutely ploughs you.

“I’m gona …” He groans. “Do it.” You whisper. And he does it. His thrusts become uneven and he moans, sound almost desperate. He spends himself inside you. His shoulders hunch and he leans his forehead against your shoulder.  
“I needed that, so badly.” He whispers. “I did too, Charles.” You whisper. 

Once his cock is flaccid, he withdraws. 

He lays down beside you and pulls you against him. “Oh damn, that was good.” He pants. “You know it can be much better, right.” You snuggle into him. “Yeah I do, but I had no patience for that. Plus, the alleviation of the tension, that is something else.” Charles murmurs. “That is true.” You agree.   
You roll to your side and kiss him slowly. Charles wraps an arm around you and kisses back all too happily. 

You undo the laces of his jerkin, trying to work him out of it. Charles breaks the kiss to take off his jerkin and shirt. You smirk and nose at his chesthair. “God Charles, you are so fucking handsome.” You whisper. Charles chuckles. “Glad you like what you see.” He purrs.  
You help him out of his breeches and small clothes. His cock is still weeping a little. You swipe your thumb over the head of his cock. Charles gives a little whine, he is rather sensitive. You lick the semen from your thumb, which Charles greedily watches. 

“Get out of that dress.” Charles breathes. “Naturally.” You slip from the bed and carefully take off your dress. You wear nothing underneath. Charles rakes his eyes over your body. He lewdly licks his lips.   
You crawl back onto the bed. Charles is swift to draw you against him. He kisses you greedily. You moan sweetly into his mouth. Charles runs his hands down your back and to your ass. He gropes lewdly. You moan together. 

Charles gives you a playful slap on the ass. You break the kiss and lustily yelp.   
“Do you like that?” Charles purrs. “Yes..” You whisper hotly. Charles smirks and gives you another slap. “Ah!” You gasp. 

“Come, move off.” Charles says. “Lay on your belly for me.” He purrs. 

You oblige, removing yourself from him and rolling onto your belly. Charles sits upright and wanders his eyes over your body. “Oh, you are going to get it.” He murmurs.   
He gently rubs his hand over your buttcheeks. You murr softly. “You have an absolutely phenomenal ass.” Charles purrs. He gives both cheeks a good smack. “Ah!” You gasp. Your inner walls give a little clench.   
He brings his hand down, harder. It leaves behind a good large print. Arousal leaks wetly from your core. Charles runs his thumb through your folds. “Fuck, you get so aroused by this, don’t you?” He murmurs. “Ye-yeah.” You stammer. Charles murrs deeply and presses his thumb into you. You moan loudly. He slowly fucks you with his thumb, rubbing carefully at your inner walls. You moan and pant. “That good?” Charles smirks down on you. “Oh yes.” You whimper. 

Charles’ free hand comes down on your ass again. This time he marks your other butt cheek with a red handprint. Your inner walls tighten around his thumb. “Hmm, I felt that.” Charles murrs. He repeats the motion. Your walls clench again. “That is very good.” He smirks down on you.   
“I can barely wait to fuck you again.” He growls. “Who says you have to wait.” You cooe. “That is exactly what I like to hear.” Charles purrs. He gives you another good hard spank. “Oh! Please Charles, just fuck me now.” You whine.

Charles lines himself up with one hand. The other he presses down on the small of your back to keep you against the mattress. He shoves in, in one fell stroke. You all but scream his name. “Very good.” Charles murmurs. 

He rails you within an inch of your life again.

From time to time he lays a slap on your ass. You moan loudly and your walls cling to his cock. Soon you are teetering on the edge once more.   
The slapping of his flesh against yours is enough to almost set you over. You just need that little extra.   
The little extra you get when Charles leans in. “I am going to fill you up.” He groans into your ear. And then you plummet. You let the flames of your climax consume you. And Charles follows suit, filling you up indeed.

He remains inside you for a good while. He leans over to place kisses along your shoulders. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you.” He grunts.


End file.
